by Dani Wyatt
I take a deep breath, trying to settle my rage, but it’s burning up. When he clears his throat, balls up the phlegm, and spits it at The Signet, that’s more than I can take. I see red, and there’s no stopping me.
“Listen here, you weasel.” I take a step toward him and point my finger. “That man took me out on the water for free yesterday when your toy boat wasn’t up to the job. He knew exactly where the hammerheads would be, and he took me right there. And then he saved my life. Yes, that’s right, saved my life. So don’t you start trying to tell me that he’s the lowlife around here, because he’s ten times the man you’ll ever be!”
Lance’s eyes are wide and I see tears welling in the corners, but then his mouth creases in a sneer. “Getting a little hot and wet for the dirty fisherman are we, Doctor?”
Where it comes from, I have no idea, but the force with which I slap the side of his face sends him reeling onto the wooden decking of the pier.
In the silence that follows, all I hear is the sound of gulls overhead, the gentle lapping of water against the side of the boats. Then I hear a soft cheer and turn to see the land crew looking my way, grins on their faces, clapping their hands. Seems nobody is much of a fan of Lance Pollack.
I turn my gaze on James, but his expression is inscrutable. He sees me looking over and averts his eyes.
“Come on, you lot, this equipment isn’t going to unload itself. I need to be out on the water half an hour ago.”
No, I will not let this opportunity pass me by.
Ignoring Lance as he tries to maintain some dignity getting to his feet, I stroll right by and up to the side of The Signet. “No, stop. All of you, stop,” I say in my most commanding voice, which is not very commanding. But I guess since it’s my equipment, they do as I say anyway. “Captain...” I search for the name Lance used. “Morelock? Yes, Morelock, Captain Morelock.”
I see the smirk hit his face just before he covers it with a hand. “I’m not a captain. Just call me James.”
“Fine. James. Please. I don’t want to go out in Lance Pollack’s boat again. I can’t stand that man.” I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. “Will you take me out to the breeding ground again...?”
The land crew snorts with laughter, and I bite my lip. Fuck. I mean darn. My choice of words needs work, especially when I’m around seamen.
“The hammerheads’ breeding ground, I mean. Please? I can’t pay you. I can only appeal to your generosity.”
This is stupid. The man has a living to make. He’s made it quite clear that what happened yesterday isn’t going to happen again.
I wait, hopefully, while he stares at me. Then he looks over behind me, where I know Lance must be smirking at my discomfort. Well, let him. I have nothing left to say to that man.
“Okay,” James says finally, then turns to the land crew. “Load it all back on, boys.”
I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I see the looks of resignation on the faces of the men. It’s heavy work, and I wish I could pay them. I wish I could pay James, too, but what I really want to give him has no monetary value at all.
Chapter 10 – Everly
I don’t know exactly what I was hoping for, but the cool treatment I receive from James is frustrating. He’s not impolite. Far from it. In fact, he treats me with nothing but respect and care. He checks and double-checks my equipment for me before and after each dive over the next three days, even on the days where I go down more than once to see if I can get any more data.
But he doesn’t once look at me the way I want him to look at me.
Don’t get me wrong, my work keeps me busy. The data I’m collecting is amazing, and it will make for very interesting reading at the next planning hearing. It’s nothing conclusive, at least not yet, not a smoking gun as they say, but it’s going to put a spanner in the works as far as Trenton Investments’ own data is concerned. In fact, my hope is that it calls all the studies they’ve done into question.
In between making dives and writing up my data, I’ve been trying to make my feelings known with ever less subtle flirtation. I want him. I’ve been wearing steadily more revealing outfits, trying to get a chance to talk with him while we head out on the water, but to no avail.
“Any idea what the weather is going to be like today?” I lean back against the control panel, lifting one leg to brace my foot against the wooden board. My short skirt lifts against my thigh, but he doesn’t even look across.
“We shouldn’t get any more storms this week.”
“How did you know it would be stormy on Monday when the forecast said it would be clear?”
“Out here on the coast, a storm can whip up the sea, send it inland on the breeze. There’s a taste in the air when that happens.”
I play with the hem of my skirt, trying to flash a little more leg, excited because I didn’t bother with panties today. Mischievously, I conjure Terri’s voice in my head.
Maybe a breeze will lift your skirt just a little too high, and then you’ll be all “Oh my golly, I hope you didn’t see my pussy, Mr. James.”
“You should check your equipment. We’ll be at the dive site soon.”
“I already checked it.”
“Doesn’t hurt to double-check.”
Ugh, I could slap that man. With a sigh, I push up off of the control panel and head to the door of the cabin, ready to go out onto the deck, but at the last moment, I turn back. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“No, of course not, what could you have done?”
Seawater is pooling from my wetsuit on the floor of the hold room, but I don’t care; I have to get all this down on paper. I’ve just seen two of the largest hammerheads in my entire life, swimming side by side. A male and a female—a breeding pair unless I’m mistaken. They must have been five and a half meters in length. Not a record, but not far off it. I have pictures, too. I’m so excited.
Struggling with the zipper on the back of the suit, I strip it off my top half, down to my waist, leaning forward over the little table to my laptop, careful not to drip water onto the screen.
“This is going to change absolutely everything,” I say to myself. “Let’s see Trenton try to wriggle their way out of this one.”
My fingers are so loud on the keyboard that I don’t even hear the door to the hold room open, or James’s footsteps on the short flight of stairs down. It isn’t until he’s already in the room that he speaks. “Hey, I brought your camer—”
His words trail off as he stares, openmouthed. Without thinking, I’ve turned at the sound of his voice, and I suddenly realize that I’m bare-breasted right in front of him. All the flirting I’ve done over the last few days suddenly pales into insignificance as heat rises to my face. Instinctively, my hands go up to my chest, covering my breasts as I feel my nipples harden to stone.
“Don’t...” he whispers, shaking his head. His eyes meet mine. “You’re beautiful, you have nothing at all to be ashamed of.”
Slowly, I lower my hands and see the bulge in the front of his shorts grow larger with every passing second.
“Good.” His voice is a murmur, his eyes flaming with greed as they take me in.
Swallowing hard, every part of me awaits what’s next. His word. Or, God, please let it be his touch.
Every inch of my skin screams out for him. A billion tiny voices calling for their first chance at his touch as my mind spins and my knees forget their purpose.
He licks the seam of his lips, leaving them glistening, and all I imagine is his tongue on me. Inside me.
Gah! I’ve never given myself over to these kinds of thoughts before. Never have I done it. And for some reason, the thought always seemed like folly.
But not now. Now, with the way James is looking at me, the way he eyes me, I’m certain he would know exactly what to do between my legs. And my body clearly agrees, as liquid heat streams down my inner thighs and my scent drifts upward to assail my nostrils.
His tongue retreats, replaced by t
eeth that indent his lower lip as he steps forward. My heart lurches into my throat as I dart my eyes around the room, counting how many steps it would take me to get to the exit yet knowing that is not where I will go.
If anything, I will throw myself forward into this oncoming, gruff man who’s sunk a hook into me and is reeling me in with every passing silent second.
When he finally speaks, I gasp and jump, gooseflesh rippling over my exposed skin as his eyes dance from one peak of my displayed breasts to the other, then back.
“Are you frightened?” The low timbre of his voice tells me something has shifted here in this space between us. The cool of my skin is replaced by the heat of whatever he is thinking.
“No. Should I be?” My vision blurs for a moment, reeling from something. From what? I don’t know. But the intensity of the power drawing and pushing between us is nearly enough to drop me to my knees.
I watch as his hand moves downward to the leather sheath on his hip. Flipping open the snap with his thumb as the rest of his fingers circle the tortoiseshell grip of the knife that sits there.
On a shudder, he draws the blade, the light from the open deck flashing into my eyes as he closes the space between us.
He’s not threatening me with that blade. No, quite the contrary, I’m impaled by my own rapt fear, and yet at the same time, more excited than I’ve been in my life. I trust that knife in his hand. Just as I trust him. And as much as that makes no sense, it’s true. This angry, brooding man engenders a trust in me that should not be, and yet it is as real as the boat under my feet.
“Strip off that suit,” he commands.
To my surprise, my hands are moving before my mind can engage. I tug at the wet, spongy fabric until it lies next to my feet in a soaking heap. My arms hang at my sides, fingers clenching into loose fists before releasing again. I’m unsure what to do other than wait for what comes next.
“Take these off too?” My voice quivers as James eyes my bathing suit bottoms. The only thing left on my body.
“Oh, no.” He steps forward, filling the last empty space between us, and a riot of shivers dances up and down my spine. “Those are mine.”
Red fire, the heat of his passion, rises on his face, and I swear I see it reflected in his eyes. There’s a contained monster inside this intense man, and I want to set it free.
I back up until my ass meets the edge of the chart desk. The broad, flat surface behind me is covered in worn sea charts, some half rolled while others seem to have lain there for a very long time, perhaps forgotten.
James reaches around me, and I can’t help but gasp. He sets the knife down, reaching around to his back pocket to pull out a neatly wound wrap of white rope.
“What’s that for?”
“You’ll see, girl.” He doesn’t look up as he answers, unwinding the rope until the ends drop loosely down onto the floor around our feet.
Without another word, he takes me by one wrist, his hands moving fast, with such purpose, and before I can take my next breath, my other wrist is grasped and pulled roughly to join its twin.
My belly clenches, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve lost my mind. Why am I not protesting? But my body wants this, needs this. He binds my hands together with expert ease, his movements so precise I’m left hypnotized by the skill of his fingers.
His jaw is clenched, and I half expect steam to roll out from under the collar of his worn denim shirt. Unbuttoned except for a single connection over his abs, and I wish to tear it open with my teeth. I imagine a breeze sweeping in and splaying the fabric wide, giving me a view of the world’s most chiseled six-pack.
“You’re a bit spoiled. You know that, don’t you?” he murmurs as he finally looks up, my hands elegantly lashed together in front of me.
“I’m not spoiled,” I retort, hearing the bit of doubt in my own answer.
“Uh-huh.” He grunts, then reaches back around to retrieve the knife, his other hand holding fast to the ropes that dangle from my bound wrists.
“Okay, so you’ve made your point.” I’m not sure what else to say; the moment is making the pounding between my legs nearly deafening.
Sure, this somewhat scary man hides inside someone who is also my savior, but what’s happening now has me ping-ponging back and forth between wild desire and unbound fear.
He laughs, and the look in his eyes makes my breath quicken. “I’ve only just begun to make my point, girl.”
He tugs the ends of the ropes as he turns and pulls me behind him toward the front cabin of the boat. I struggle, testing the strength of his lashing, but the knots aren’t just beautiful, they’re also sturdy. They look like woven white wrist cuffs that could very well be art.
In a movement so swift I barely know it’s coming, he’s got me spun around and on my back. He sets the knife at the side of my head as he takes both hands and begins to work the rope. The V-shaped bed in the bow of the boat is covered in navy blue sheets. It’s impeccably clean, orderly. I can’t help but notice, even as James leans over me and in less than a minute has the ends of the rope secured to a cleat above the head of the bed.
He grabs my ankles one at a time and places my feet spread wide, knees bent, before he pauses and takes a long moment to stare. I watch the pulse at the corner of his jaw quicken. His breaths come long and low as he bites into his bottom lip.
“Now. Those—” he nods toward my red bathing suit bottoms “—those are mine.”
He’s back up, one knee leaning into the mattress as he runs the cold steel of the knife up my inner thigh. His eyes remain locked on to mine with his brows pinning together as the blade inches higher.
“Please...” I utter, unsure what it is I’m begging for. The fact is, desire is ripping through me, and I’m slick and soaking the fabric between my legs.
“Yes, you will say please. Many, many times, sweetheart.”
His eyes shift from mine, focusing on where the tip of the blade scrapes under the elastic around my thigh. My body twitches and jumps from the contact.
He pulls it back, then I feel the first touch of the sharp metal on the outside of my bathing suit, skimming my outer lips. The sensation causes me to groan and clench my core.
I think I hear him chuckle, but I’m too lost in the feeling, the sensation as he runs the knife slowly up and down between my legs.
“Oh my God.” I snap my knees together.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” His voice turns harsh as he brings a hand up to grip the top of my knee, driving it apart.
The first smack takes my breath away. The second one on the inside of my thigh sends a course of shivers through my body so intense my eyes close.
Two more smacks drive my legs wide, and I feel my breasts shake back and forth from the impact.
“Lesson one. Don’t ever keep me from this.” The tip of the knife again between my legs, only this time, it’s not soft; it’s pressing right where my body opens. The fear and pleasure are driving me to the brink of madness, my drenched arousal now dripping down into my ass cheeks.
My heart is beating so fast I think I may pass out. James pulls at my bathing suit by my hip, the point of the knife leaving my opening. Then I hear the swift cut of fabric, and a long, low exhale comes from him.
I bring my eyes upward to see him staring down. Then the next cut comes at my other hip, and my body is suddenly free from the fabric.
James brings it immediately to his face, keeping his eyes on mine now as he sucks the center, where my body drenched the red cloth, into his mouth, making a loud, sucking sound.
My legs are trembling as he removes my bathing suit bottoms from between his teeth, setting them down along with the knife in a small compartment above the bed.
He grins, rubbing a hand down the front of his pants drawing more attention to the erection he does nothing to hide.
Then, he tips his head, brings a finger to my lips and whispers in my ear, "You're very wet for me. And I'm hungry. Time to eat."
Chapter 11 –
James
For the last five nights, I’ve lain in my bed, masturbating, thinking of nothing but her.
Of this.
After so many years I can’t even count, after so long of not giving a shit about a woman, about sex, about anything to do with a fucking relationship, one dance of Everly in front of my eyes with her muck boots and ripe tits has had me jerking off like I’m in high school again.
And it’s this moment I’ve imagined hundreds of times already. Her spread wide for me. Willing. That glistening cunt waiting for my tongue. Her scent already branded into my soul.
I’ve been so shut down for so long, I wasn’t even sure I was still human. But with the hard-on aching inside my pants and my heart racing in my chest, I’m pretty fucking sure at this point I’m more than still alive. I’m reborn.
And it’s for her. All for her.
I still feel every spot on my body where she’s touched me. She has seared herself into my flesh, driven my blood south into my raging hard-on.
She’s weaving herself into me more with each passing second. With her eyes staring, half frightened, half eager, with the way her pussy is drenched for me. Nothing has ever looked more beautiful than her lying there waiting for whatever is about to happen.
I feel my armor falling away even as I know it’s going to bite me in the ass. It always does. Being vulnerable. Feelings make you vulnerable; that’s always been the shell that’s kept me safe, but this train is running away from me, and until I get my mouth on her, I can’t fucking think straight.
Her lush hips and ample thighs give me no choice. As I uncover each part of her, it only makes my fire burn hotter, wilder. More out of control. The look in her eyes is drawing me in. Leaving the years of angst and loathing behind. Replacing them with hope for something new. Something real. A second chance.
“What are you going to do?” Her tiny voice breaks me from my trance.
“Eat that cunt until I’ve had my fill. Then start again. Make you cum until your eyes roll back and the only word you know is my name.”